#✨ bonding moment ✨

[twistedappletree]

[mikeytea]

“When you try and make the siblings get along”

I’ve been wheezing at @game-on-comics recent piece ( sorry for the sudden tag 😭 ) with Ai and Sota being fed up with one another and then there’s me just tryna make them get along

In the process I ended up drawing this 💀

[cornyzombie]

Not sure if anyone knows this, but John Cena voices Baron Draxum from Rise, so naturally I couldn’t resist doing a draw over 😂

[thesilverlady]

Unpopular opinion: having Aegon as this failson momma's boy is BORING let characters have agency let them make their own decisions even if it's morally ambiguous,or downright wrong. there is nothing absolutely wrong with a character who has agency, a well defined goal and solid characterization. Having a character that is reduced to be another character plot device is not moral complexity or "greyness"

hmm half agree, half disagree anon 😅

On the one hand, Aegon being failure in regards to the family expectations is part of his character, so I personally wouldn't take it away to prop him up. Him being sullen and unmotivated/lazy as well as quick tempered are the only traits we do in fact have about the character from canon.

Now, I'll agree the execution was bad. For instance in the show aemond is clearly the favorite one because he's calm, disciplined, studious and obedient. (basically a pollar opposite of his book self). While in the f&b we never get to see who alicent's favorite is, it makes sense for aegon to get her most attention; he remains her firstborn son, his "rights" have been robbed in her eyes, and his presence/existence alone is a weapon to wield against rhaenyra (who seem to live rent free in alicent's head)

The spin they went into for the show that alicent is this disappointed mother with the failure of her first son, her odd daughter and her only comfort is her second son - who also breaks the illusion when he kills her bff's son was.... a choice.

Alicent at core is a hypocrite. And I'm not saying this with hate. it's her trait. It can be as fun as it can be obnoxious, depending on the way you're viewing things. She would never acknowledge her children's flaws or pin blame on them.

So back to show Aegon, not only he doesn't have his mother's blind love/support, he doesn't even seem to have any relationship with his own brother whatsoever.

I've mentioned my disdain over the age changes for the show because essentially they serve nothing. Aegon being "friendly" with Jace for 3 minutes didn't add anything more because guess what, we only see the kids in two episodes. Aegon bullying his brother.... because his nephews were more interesting? again makes no sense

Objectively i think they wanted to toy with the shared childhood to build emotional bonds and to hurt more when you see all these people killing each other. But that doesn't work when you have timeskips in every single episode.

So Aegon is left as this guy whose father hates his guts for no reason (we never see if he even knows about the maids, or drinking or his son's general behavior), his mother seem like she cannot stand him. His brother is indifferent to him at best or looks down to him as worst. The only neutral is kinda Helaena - which doesn't last long if you pay attention to her dinner speech 😬

Aegon in the book is quite terrible, but TV people have forgotten that viewers used to enjoy characters like these without any need to "related" to them. Not to mention, I feel hotd as a writing point always calls the viewers dumb because in order for them to understand that aegon in the show is also not a great guy they have to turn every single person from his circle against him.

[un-pearable]

rewatched yugioh bonds beyond time for the first time in honestly possibly a decade and spending an hour and a half to watch a fifty minute movie while my now-adult brother who still actively plays tears it to absolute shreds over the many rules it completely ignores and cards it just makes up is the single best thing yugioh has ever gifted me

[thedeadthree]

IOVANNA DAYNE, hotd 🔮 | CALLA TARGARYEN, hotd 🌞

OLGA LITVINCHUCK, tlou⚕️| IRYNA PASTERNAK, tlou 💀

MARTA CHAYKOVSKI, fhr 🕸 | UNA ULLER, hotd 🐍

IRINA RURIK, vtm 🥀 | NYNANE SELWYN, vtm 🩸

TAGGED BY the darlings @morvaris, @leviiackrman, @detectivelokis, @corvosattano, @confidentandgood, @shadowglens, @nightbloodraelle to make the dears in this picrew! ty so much! <3

TAGGING: @risingsh0t, @feystepped, @griffin-wood, @kingsroad, @jendoe, @phillipsgraves, @chuckhansen, @queennymeria, @denerims, @marivenah, @florbelles, @arklay, @unholymilf, @adelaidedrubman, @aartyom, @roofgeese, @nuclearstorms, @noonfaerie, @shellibisshe, @girlbosselrond, @fragilestorm, @yennas, @leondaltons, @malefiicarum, @anoras, @minaharkers, @loriane-elmuerto, @jacobseed and you!

[therighthandofvengeance]

John Sheridan x Delenn of Mir

AKA

“If you hurt my significant other I will cause a diplomatic incident.”

“No, no you won’t.”

“But…”

“We already had the ‘butt’ conversation. You will do no such thing.”

“Fine.”

(Then, of course, they ultimately need to be rescued by the other.)

[clouvu]

Father-Son bonding moment ✨

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

They're Mates - with Y/N Pt 1

Summary - Feyre meets Rhys's Inner Circle and witnesses the strength of the mating bond.

Warnings - abusive family mentioned.

Other Notes - 1k words; Please note that most of these lines/plot points are inspired or directly quoted from ACOMAF; I originally posted this where Reader was given the name 'Vee' but am putting this one out for anyone who might prefer y/n.

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Masterlist

✨💫

Feyre looked up to see the same two males from earlier standing in the doorway, grinning, and a new presence. A beautiful female with wings like the others. She wore a deep blue gown that reached the floor––her hair resting over both her shoulders. The two males wore black leather with a sword strapped against their backs. Feyre noted the power each of them seemed to hold.

The male who was a bit large than the other, spoke up with a light chuckle. “We don’t bite. Unless you ask us to Feyre.”

The female shot him a pointed look. “Last time I checked, nobody wanted to take you up on that offer, Cassian.” The male who stood between the female and Cassian let out a light, short, laugh before whispering something into the female’s ear making her eyes twinkle subtly. Feyre watched as Cassian gave his own pointed look.

“No secrets in front of our guest, Az,” Cassian said with a grin.

The light danced across their faces allowing Feyre to observe their physical features for a moment. Similar to Rhysand, all three were dark-haired. Both males had tanned skin and hazel eyes. Feyre couldn’t quite tell the eye color of the female standing next to Az, but she gave off an air of beauty and power.

Cassian grinned again, looking Rhys and Feyre up and down. “You made poor Feyre dress up, brother,” he said before winking in her direction. His features were rough like someone had molded him, from the earth.

The second male was more classically beautiful, though hard to read. He was certainly the one who would be a surprise in the dark, the hidden knife. Feyre noticed the light sparkle in his eyes anytime he looked at the female to his left. It piqued a curiosity in Feyre.

Rhys said, “Azriel––my spymaster,” indicating the one in the middle. He then indicated the female. “Y/N. An emissary for the Night Court.” A name, Feyre later learned, Az had adopted for the emissary after she declared she did not want the name her abusive family had given her.

She immediately offered her hand with a warm smile. “Welcome, Feyre.” She gently squeezed Feyre’s before she quickly let go and Feyre does her best to not seem eager as she stepped back to stand next to the High Lord of the night Court, again.

“You’re brothers?” Feyre asked. The two males before her looked similar. The kind of similar where people who come from the same place do, not familial similar.

“All bastards are brothers in some sense,” Rhys responded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Before Feyre could ask Cassian said, “And I command Rhys’s armies.”

Feyre nodded, shifting on her feet slightly before her eyes glanced to see Azriel taking another glance in the emissary’s direction. She looked right back with a smile that showed a clear fondness for the spymaster. The moment went as quickly as it came when Az turned his gaze to Feyre. “Cassian also excels at pissing everyone off. Especially amongst our friends. So, as a friend of Rhysand, good luck.”

Feyre was giving more attention to not being recognized as the girl Under the Mountain. She wondered, for just a moment if they knew––maybe they didn’t. That was quickly  answered when Cassian nudged past the Night Court’s spymaster requiring Az to flare his wings to keep himself balanced. Feyre watched Y/N’s hand fall to Azriel’s lower back to assist. Feyre noticed the fleeting moment of eye contact between the spymaster and the emissary, but it quickly became a second thought as Cassian asked his question about how Feyre had made the bone ladder in the Middengard Wyrm’s lair, when as he put it, “you looked like your own bones could snap at any moment.”

Y/N shot Cassian another pointed gaze, but it turned into a grin after Feyre made a sarcastic comment of her own. The general laughed and Azriel’s eyebrow lifted with approval as the shadows swirled around him, tighter. Feyre’s need to understand the gift only furthered when the shadows swirled up and around Y/N’s wrist playfully, before weaving around the ends of her hair.

Her curiosity once again was pushed to the side when Feyre heard, thankfully, a familiar voice…Mor. “I hope Cassian’s howling means Feyre told him to shut his fat mouth.”

Y/N quickly whispered something into Az’s ear, his shadows lightened slightly from around him. Feyre’s curiosity about the nature of their relationship increasing.

“I don’t know why I forget you two are related,” Cassian told Mor, while glancing over at Rhys for just a moment. “You two and your clothing.” The High Lord rolled his eyes, but Feyre had her own focus on the emissary and the spymaster who were both standing in silence, stealing glances at each other.

“I wanted to impress Feyre. You could have tried to make an effort to comb your hair,” Mor responded.

Cassian braced his feet a little farther apart on the floor in a fighting stance Feyre recognized, perhaps too well. “Unlike some people, I have better things to do with my time than sit in front of the mirror for hours,” the general bit back.

“Yes,” Mor the said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “since swaggering around––”

“We have company,” Azriel said in a soft warning, spreading his wings as he tried to herd everyone.

“Relax, Az,” Mor said as she dodged the spymaster’s outstretched wing. “We won’t fight. We promised Rhys.”

Feyre barely noticed Az stop in his tracks, letting out the smallest of huff and his shadows seem to become thicker. She then watched as Y/N took one of Az’s hands in her own, gently pressing her lips to the back of it. His shadows lightened around him. Apparently the question about their relationship reached Feyre’s face because Rhys leaned down slightly to say, “They’re mates. Azriel and Y/N. They’ve known each other a little over 500 years and been mates just under 500.”

Feyre considered that fact, thinking there was something delicately beautiful about nearly 500 years of commitment between the two. Now she just had a few thousand more questions about the court’s spymaster and emissary. Question she decided were for another time as Mor indicated the empty seat beside her. Feyre knew the image of Az whispering into his mate’s ear and the twinkle in her eye would be etched into the back of her mind forever.

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (6)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC word count | 6.3k words summary | all I'm gonna say is blood and cheese. tags | death, angst/comfort, vampire powers, blood (lots and lots of blood), trauma? aemond and reader can't keep their hands off each other, reader don't play when it comes to helaena, canon divergence note | i still haven't gotten over blood and cheese and phia saban's phenomenal acting in that episode. why is there so many oc fics in the aemond x reader tag (no hate). also contemplating writing for loki and oswald cobblepot (penguin in gotham)

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

“I am happy that my mother has let you become my lady-in-waiting,” Helaena murmured, her voice lilting like a gentle breeze.

“As am I, Princess-” you paused before correcting yourself, “My Queen—the presence of the children brings me much comfort.”

“They eagerly anticipate your visits each day,” Helaena replied with a softness in her gaze that seemed to light the room.

Seated beside the young prince Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, whose precocious spirit was beginning to shine, you cast a fond glance at Jaehaerys, who was determinedly practicing his High Valyrian. Leaning closer, you offered him an encouraging smile, “What does this mean, Jaehaerys?”

It had taken some time for your bond with the young prince to flourish. Unlike his sister, who was as lively and eager as a summer’s day, Jaehaerys was quieter, more contemplative. Yet, you noticed that now whenever you attended to your duties for Helaena, while Jaehaera would chatter your ear off cheerfully, her twin would subtly gravitate toward you, seeking comfort as you played delicately with his soft, silver hair.

“Per—perzis ano...anogor?” he stammered, his timid voice breaking the air with a hint of uncertainty.

You couldn’t help but inwardly smile at his effort; the correct pronunciation was “Perzys Anogar.” After five years spent in the sun-kissed lands of Essos, you had perfected the various dialects of High Valyrian to perfection. Yet, your encouragement for the young prince remained unwavering. At just four years old, his intelligence astounded you. “Very good, my sweet prince. And what does it mean?”

“Fire and blood!” Jaehaera exclaimed with unrestrained enthusiasm, hastening to answer before her brother could. Her eyes sparkled with delight, clearly eager to capture your full attention. Jaehaerys shot her a sidelong glance, his lips pressed together in a playful pout, while you directed your gaze to Jaehaera with admiration. “Well done, dear princess.”

"My Queen," came a maid's voice, cutting through the tranquil atmosphere of Helaena's solar. Both you and Helaena shifted your gaze, "Prince Jaehaerys is summoned for his lesson with the Maester."

Helaena, who sat gracefully upon a pile of richly embroidered cushions, her needlework perched delicately in her lap, regarded her son with a tender smile, her serene demeanor offering him encouragement. "Off you go, Jaehaerys," she urged softly.

The small prince nodded earnestly. Before following the maid through the heavy wooden doors he turned to offer you a shy wave, a glimpse of the warmth that sparked beneath his young exterior. As the sound of his footsteps faded into silence, you turned your focus back to Princess Jaehaera, who was nestled in a nearby chair, fixated on the pages of a book filled with tales of dragons and valor, Jaehaerys had been reading. After awhile, your attention shifted as the sound of eager footsteps resonated through Helaena’s solar. You turned to see Aegon striding purposefully toward you and Jaehaera.

"Lady Mikaelson," he acknowledged with a courteous nod, his gaze lingering upon you for an unsettling moment, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine before he redirected his focus to Jaehaera.

“Where is Jaehaerys?” Aegon inquired, a frown settling deeply between his brows, betraying his impatience.

Helaena’s voice was soft as a whisper, yet it held a steady resolve. “Attending his lessons.”

“And those are where?” Aegon pressed, a hint of mockery threading through his tone, forcing back the urge to scoff at his impatience.

Helaena sighed, a delicate sound that barely pierced the air. “What do you need of him?”

Aegon’s lips thinned, “Taking him to the small council,” he announced, straightening his back with lots of fervor, “He'll be king one day, he must begin his instruction.”

With an eye roll barely concealed, you turned to braid Jaehaera's sweet, silver locks, weaving strands as your thoughts tangled around Aegon’s words. Helaena’s brow furrowed slightly, and you caught the hesitation in her voice. “What if he does not wish to be king?”

Aegon’s huff echoed in the chamber, annoyed, as he leaned closer, palms pressing against his knees. “Where is he?”

“In the library,” Helaena replied, her tone tinged with reluctance. “But you must not disturb his custom.”

Aegon, ever dismissive, shrugged off her words and stepped toward the door. Yet he halted when Helaena's voice pierced the silence once more, "I am afraid."

He pivoted on his heel, regarding her with feigned nonchalance. "Don't be. They'd be fools to come with Vhagar protecting the city."

"Not the dragons," Helaena murmured, her gaze dropping to the cold stone floor. "The rats."

Aegon, along with the attendants, followed her gaze, their eyes scanning for any signs of the vermin that might lurk in the shadows.

"The queen is an enduring mystery," Aegon declared, casting a mocking glance at Helaena. "Is she not?"

With that, he departed, leaving a chill in the air. As soon as he crossed the threshold, you rose from your seat and moved to Helaena’s side, offering her a warm smile. "You need not fear the rats; the castle is filled with rat catchers."

Helaena’s frown deepened, her troubled lilac eyes meeting yours as she whispered with conviction, "That is what terrifies me."

Words escaped you, for you understood that Helaena possessed knowledge beyond the grasp of ordinary folk—truths unacknowledged and often dismissed. Instead of voicing your confusion and uncertainty, you simply clasped her hand in yours, offering the silent comfort.

Your gaze shifted, drawn by the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps as they echoed through the confines of Helaena's solar. As you looked up, your heart raced, a rhythmic thudding that quickened with warmth flooding your cheeks and fluttering butterflies stirring restlessly in your stomach. Aemond strode through the door, an unmistakable presence that demanded attention.

It was true what you'd confided to him: you were still a maiden. A maiden, after five centuries of vampiric existence, because how could you interact with any man when Nikaus, Elijah, and Kol perpetually cast watchful shadows over your every move. You recalled a particular moment in 1001 AD, when a reckless infatuation with Tristan de Martel had nearly led you to surrender your maidenhood, only to be halted by Finn’s stern intervention—a chastisement you still felt the sting of.

But Aemond was different. His presence was a siren's call, compelling and irresistible. You had lost yourself in the depths of his gaze, willingly surrendering to the passion that enveloped you, and you never wished to escape the intoxicating spell he wove around you. The ecstasy of your lovemaking had been a revelation, a visceral experience you had never dreamed possible. Despite your initial attempts to keep a distance, Aemond's determination had eroded every barrier you'd erected, and then, as you laid in the warm afterglow of those stolen moments, regret was a distant memory.

In that act, surrounded by pleasure, Aemond had awakened a sense of aliveness within you that you had not felt since you had died. His touch and words made you feel cherished, loved—deep down, you had longed for this connection. Mere days had passed since you had shared that intimate bond, yet every time your eyes met his, unbidden warmth flushed your cheeks anew.

He lingered his gaze on you for what felt like an eternity, an unspoken connection hanging heavily in the air, before directing his attention to Helaena. "Sister," he began, his tone both respectful and confident, "might I steal a moment of Lady Mikaelson's time?"

Helaena glanced between you and Aemond, a subtle spark of understanding dancing in her eyes as she nodded, a gentle smile touching her lips. "Of course, brother."

Rising slowly from your seat, you were acutely aware of the curious gazes from the other ladies in the room. Yet, before you could fully separate yourself from Helaena's side, her hand shot out, delicately grasping your wrist. "Will you come to bid Jaehaerys goodnight before you retire?" Helaena's voice slipped through the air like a delicate melody, inviting yet tinged with uncertainty.

You offered a reassuring nod, your voice soft and warm. "Of course, My Queen."

With that, you turned to Aemond, his patience evident as he awaited your move. As you stepped into the dimly lit corridor, the sound of his footsteps fell steadily in rhythm with yours. Once you had retreated far enough from the safety of Helaena's chambers, you paused and turned to him, your voice laced with curiosity, “What did you wish to—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Aemond's hands cradled your face, pulling you into an unexpected kiss. Surprise rippled through you, manifesting in a soft gasp, but you quickly surrendered to the moment, your lips responding to his with eager warmth. An exhilarating pulse of intimacy washed over you as you opened your mouth, inviting the dance of his tongue with yours, a sweet entanglement that momentarily erased the world around you.

When at last Aemond broke the kiss, his breath came heavy and laden with unspoken emotions, and he pressed his forehead against yours, that mischievous violet eye glinting with resolve. "I plan to go to the small council to announce our betrothal."

Your breath caught in surprise as you took a small step back, trying to comprehend his words. “Betrothal?” The weight of his intentions settled heavily on your heart.

A marriage with him would be folly; he was a prince, destined for heirs and an aging legacy, while you—a vampire—would remain eternally youthfully beautiful, bound to a dead womb. Yet his audacity ignited a spark of indignation in you, prompting a petulant response, “Aemond, you didn’t even ask me.”

A small, infuriating smirk played upon his lips, a faint acknowledgment of your protest. “Will you marry me then?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “How very romantic of you.” The gravity of the moment drew your expression into something more serious as you continued, “Aemond, we are bracing ourselves for war—planning a wedding now would be utterly misplaced.”

“It will be a beacon of hope for the smallfolk,” he argued earnestly, the conviction in his voice palpable.

"At the cost of the kingdom’s coin," you countered sharply, your voice laden with reality.

He dismissed your worries with a wave of his hand, as though to sweep away the logic. “Then we’ll have something modest—”

“Aemond,” you chided softly, lifting your hands to cradle his chiseled face. At your delicate touch, he fell silent, his fierce demeanor momentarily quelled. Deep down, you were acutely aware that his determination to wed you would remain unyielding. In a bid to find common ground you decided to offer an empty concession, “Let us marry after the war.”

His solitary violet eye bore into yours, piercing deeper as if seeking to unravel the very essence of your soul. "You swear it," he demanded, his voice a low thrum of intensity.

Inside, a tumult stirred; 'No,' your thoughts whispered, for you could not predict the war's course. The Iron Throne rightfully belonged to Rhaenyra, and the Blacks appeared poised to triumph. Yet, your heart was tethered to the Greens, bound by an affection that defied reason. The weight of it all threatened to crush you, leading you to contemplate escape back to your world, to your family—a choice that would certainly bring Niklaus's wrath upon you.

But with a deep breath, you embraced the moment, nodding serenely as you wove your words into a gentle lie. "I swear it."

Aemond's gaze lingered in your eyes, a moment stretched between you like the fragile threads of fate. As he nodded, a wave of relief washed over you, warm and undeniable. Yet, as if sealing your pact, his lips found yours once more, igniting a tempest within your heart. The weight of your deception pressed heavily upon you, yet you surrendered to the solace of his kiss, seeking refuge in its intoxication.

The kiss deepened, evolving into something more fervent, as Aemond gently ushered you backward until your back met the cold stone wall. His tongue danced with yours, a fierce desire eclipsing the trepidation that lingered in your mind, as if he sought to claim not merely your lips but your very essence.

A sudden noise pricked at your senses, the swift approach of footsteps echoing through the hallway. In a flurry of instinct, you pushed Aemond away just as a servant passed by. The servant’s gaze flicked towards you, then promptly fell to the ground, yet you could almost feel the unspoken thoughts swirling in their mind. A shiver of apprehension ran through you; you knew whispers would soon scatter among the servants like leaves in the wind.

As the footsteps faded into the distance, Aemond clasped your hands, his grip a mix of desperation and longing. "I yearn to be with you again," he mused, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within your core.

"I feel the same," you replied softly, bringing his hands to your lips in a tender gesture, savoring the skin you coveted.

Alas, the moment was fleeting, as the sound of hurried footfalls approached again prompting the two of you to separate once more. Aemond exhaled, a hint of irritation lacing his tone. "And yet, in this castle, we are forever denied our privacy."

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. "What do you propose?"

He paused, a flicker of hesitation in his gaze, before his lips parted to reveal his audacious suggestion. "The Street of Silk."

"Aemond—" you interjected, surprise and concern overtaking your thoughts.

"Calm yourself," he urged, his hands finding their way to your waist, drawing you closer, the warmth of his body burning away your reservations. "We would seek only a room, nothing more. A night enveloped in our own secret, away from prying eyes."

A hesitant sigh escaped your lips, your heart fluttering at the prospect yet tethered by caution. "Aemond."

In a tender gesture, he kissed your forehead, followed by soft pecks on your cheeks, then lingered with his lips brushing against yours. It was pathetic how quickly you melted under his affection, yearning for the contact that ignited a fire within you. His voice, barely above a whisper, danced against your lips, "Tonight?"

With a surrender that surprised even yourself, you acquiesced. "Alright." His eye sparkled with triumph as he finally pressed his lips against yours, granting you the sweetness you craved.

Yet, he broke away, his breath mingling with yours. "I shall meet you at your chambers—"

"No," you countered softly, concern lacing your words. "It would be dangerous for us to be seen leaving the castle together."

He regarded you with a stern expression, a protective glimmer in his eye as he shook his head. "Fleabottom is no place for a lady to wander alone."

You smiled gently at his earnestness, reassured him with conviction, "I’ll be fine, Aemond. I promise."

With a resigned sigh from you, he leaned in to steal another kiss, the taste of his resolve lingering. "Then it is settled. Meet me at the Blue Pearl tonight."

“I will,” you vowed, your mind clouded by the intoxicating pull of his presence, rational thought slipping away like sand through fingers.

The Keep lay shrouded in an eerie silence as you stepped into the dimly lit corridor from your chambers. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, as if the very walls held their breath, rendering the castle a hollow shell. With purpose, you made your way toward the Queen’s chambers, determined to fulfill your promise to Helaena and bid the twins a gentle goodnight.

You wrapped your cloak tightly around your shoulders, bracing against the biting winds that swept through the stone hallways. A sense of foreboding clawed at your thoughts, quickening your steps as you approached Helaena's solar.

As you neared her chambers, the quiet was shattered by a pained whimper—a sound that sent a chill racing down your spine. Without hesitation, you pushed through the door, only to freeze in shock at the scene before you. A filthy man loomed over Helaena, his grip merciless as he held a knife to her delicate throat. The metallic scent of her blood hung heavy in the air, as you noticed a small nick on her neck.

Your instincts flared to life, propelling you forward to confront the intruder. But before you could move, strong arms encircled you, halting your advance. "Who the fuck is she?" the brute growled, his gaze locked onto the man who held Helaena captive.

“She’s the queen she is,” the crazed man replied, a sickly laugh escaping his lips, his gaze dancing between you and Helaena, relishing the chaos.

“A son for a son, he said,” came the rough retort of the man holding you, his grip tightening like a vice. “Does she look like a fucking son to you?”

The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning—revenge. These madmen had been sent by the Blacks, likely by Daemon himself, to claim a son in return for Lucerys Valaryon.

Pointing with a blood-stained finger, the deranged man holding Helaena, gestured to the cribs across the room, where Jaehaerys and Jaehaera lay asleep, vulnerable to the whims of fate. “Over there,” he sneered, a glint of madness flashing across his eyes.

A chilling wave of nausea washed over you as dread seeped into your heart, realizing the intent behind his actions. Yet, even with the unfathomable power you possessed, you hesitated. You could kill these men in mere moments, reduce them to shredded pieces, but the fear in Helaena’s wide eyes anchored you. You could not afford to frighten her further.

“Release her,” you commanded, your tone a blend of authority and menace, ever mindful of the trembling figure of the queen. “You do not know the darkness you invite with your intentions”

The grip of the man holding you tightened, his fingers like iron shackles, deaf to your words. Instead, the madman holding Helaena chortled, an unsettling sound that grated against your nerves. "We need to get our head and get out."

A simmering rage ignited within you at his vile insinuation, your voice turning low and menacing as you retorted, "If you dare imply what I think, know that your life shall end before you can ever look upon the prince."

The large brute, his bulk a grotesque parody of strength, pressed his clammy hand against your throat, constricting it as he growled, "Shut your fucking mouth, woman."

In that chilling moment, Helaena found her voice, her eyes wide with terror as they darted between you and the man’s tightening grasp. "I have a necklace," she stammered, her heart echoing her fear, "It's of great value."

The man holding you scoffed, his eyes narrowing with disdain. "That’s not a son."

His grip tightened further, but to you, it was nothing more than the grasp of a mere mortal, a fleeting nuisance. With an air of fatalistic calm, you shrugged, “I’ve warned you, and now you shall reap the consequences.”

As the darkness of your true nature surged, crimson flames ignited in your gaze. Veins suffused with blood snaked under your skin and the sharp glint of fangs elongated in exquisite hunger. The man holding Helaena faltered, the smile that once adorned his lips vanished, replaced by a primal terror as he regarded you. “What’s—what’s happening to your face?!”

Confusion roiled in the eyes of the man who had once held your throat captive. Before he could fully comprehend the depths of his error, you moved with the swiftness of a striking snake, your head whipping around as you buried your fangs deep into his pallid flesh. His scream reverberated like a death knell against the stone.

With one fierce tug, you tore into him—a vicious rip that sent a warm spray of blood cascading over your face, painting your features in hues of crimson. The brute’s body slackened, his grip fading as life bled from him like the night fleeing before dawn. He crumpled to the ground dead.

Your attention shifted, a predatory glare now focused on the other man, who quivered holding Helaena securely but fearfully at knifepoint. His confidence wavered as your fury ignited the air around you, and he stepped back, terror threading his voice, “If you come any closer, I swear I’ll kill her—”

In a heartbeat, you were before him. Your eyes cooled to an earthly hue, compelling yet cold, as your voice held the weight of your compulsion. “Step away from the queen."

The resolve in his eyes shattered, obedience taking root as he released Helaena, fear transforming into a savage obedience. But that was not enough; oh no, they would pay dearly for their actions. You stepped closer, lowering your voice to a whisper laced with venom. “Now… stick your knife in your throat.”

Tears cascaded down his cheeks, streaming with unspoken horror as he felt the weight of your will. Whimpering like a child at the mercy of a storm, he struggled against the compulsion, but your magic throbbed through the air, binding him tighter within your grasp. The dagger trembled in his hand before the metal found flesh, cutting deeply as crimson blessing spilled forth. He gasped, choking as despair overwhelmed him, stabbing again and again until his last breath escaped into the silence of the room, and dropped to the ground.

In the wake of such violence, as blood pooled and splattered across the cold floor, your features softened, the fierce gleam fading from your visage. Your fangs retracted, and your eyes reverted to their natural colour, the monstrous visage slipping away like a shadow at dawn.

A tumult of emotions swirled within you—fear, regret—until your gaze flicked to Helaena, ready to face the disgust you expected. Yet, as her eyes met yours, confusion twisted within you; there was no horror, no disgust in her gaze—only a profound relief.

You took a hesitant step back, bewildered by her calm demeanor. "Are you not afraid of me?" you questioned, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her brow furrowed in genuine confusion as she softly said, “You saved us."

You realized she might be still grappling with the shock, as she drifted across the room, her movements fluid and deliberate. She bypassed the gruesome scene left in your wake, retrieving a handkerchief with an unsettling nonchalance. Approaching you with a tender resolve, she reached forth, seeking to wipe the blood from your face. Her touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the brutality that had just unfolded.

Yet, as the fabric of her care swept across your skin, your brow furrowed at the sight of tears beginning to brim in Helaena's eyes. “Helaena—what's wrong?” you implored, clasping her trembling hands firmly within yours. “You need not fear; all is well now, you are safe.”

Her tears continued to spill softly, tracing delicate paths down her pale cheeks, as she whispered in a voice that seemed to drift like a dream, “I thought I was lost in one of my dreams. I did not realize it was the truth laid bare before me.”

“It was,” you replied gently, your voice a quiet promise. “But it is over now.”

“If you had not been here, Jaehaerys would be—” she faltered, her composure cracking as a choked sob escaped her lips.

You could only watch her, sorrow etched upon your face, as she turned away from you and hurried to the crib where Jaehaerys slept, oblivious to the tempest that had transpired around him and his sister. Slowly, she lifted the sleeping boy into her arms, his silver hair catching the light like stars against the night sky. She cradled him tightly, swaying gently as if to soothe not just him, but the remnants of her own grief.

“They almost took my boy,” Helaena murmured, her voice a soft lament, entwined within the strands of Jaehaerys’ hair, as if she sought comfort in his very existence.

Aemond exhaled sharply as he finally approached the entrance of the Blue Pearl, its facade gleaming with a deceptive allure. He paused for a moment, memories swirling like smoke from the incense within—each recollection a weight pressing down upon him, reminding him of the last time he had stepped through these doors.

As he crossed the threshold into the brothel, the atmosphere assaulted his senses: the heady scent of incense mingled with the intoxicating sounds of fervent moans and whispered promises that echoed through the dimly lit chambers. The air was thick with a palpable energy, a collision of desire and desperation.

Maintaining a cold and stoic demeanor, Aemond navigated the labyrinth of shadowy corners and silken drapes, his singular focus on securing a room where you both could retreat from the burdens of the outside world, if only for a fleeting night. Under the enveloping darkness of his hooded cloak, he radiated an aura of menace; others instinctively parted before him, quaking under the weight of his dangerous glare.

However, his composure faltered for just a moment when he felt a delicate hand brush against his arm. A surge of indignation coursed through him, instincts honed to ready his strike against anyone who dared encroach upon his space—anyone, that is, who was not you.

Yet, upon turning, he found himself face to face with the last person he wished to encounter. Madam Sylvi, the proprietor of this establishment, stood before him, her presence a haunting reminder of a past he had sought to forget. She was the first woman to lay claim to him, a forced initiation into a world of shadows that had snatched away his boyhood, all at the insidious urging of his brother. Aemond's heart raced, caught between the clutches of anger and the bitter taste of old wounds that threatened to resurface.

"My Prince," she began, her lips curving into what she believed to be a beguiling smile. To Aemond, however, it appeared more akin to a grimace painted upon her features. "What an unexpected pleasure it is to see you once again in these halls."

Feeling a tide of shame wash over him, he averted his gaze, staring intently at the carved wooden floor beneath his feet. “All I seek is a room,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

"And which girl shall I send to warm your bed?" she teased, her tone dripping with seduction. Then, with a coy pause, she added, "Or perhaps you are in need of a woman instead?"

He clenched his jaw, his frustration rising. “Just a room,” he insisted, his voice firm, yet faltering.

She let out a soft, lilting hum, feigning disappointment. “A shame,” she purred, her fingers trailing along his arm—a gesture that made his skin crawl. “But know that my arms are always open, especially for you.”

The urge to retaliate surged within him; he imagined the swift, savage justice he could enact. Yet, he found himself rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the memory of their past encounters—memories that danced like shadows in his mind, haunting him still.

Clearing his throat, he risked a glance in her direction, his resolve strengthening. “A Lady will come through your doors. Instruct her where to find me.”

With that, he turned on his heel, striding away before she could utter another word.

Not long after, five figures had made their way into Helaena's solar, their presence a stark contrast to the brutality that had enveloped the chamber moments before. A maid, having spotted one of the trespassers who had slipped into the shadows, acted on her apprehension and sought out a guard.

This led to Lord Otto Hightower being summoned, and he, it seemed, was the sole soul present who maintained the decorum expected of his station. He had seized Aegon with the kind of authoritative grip one might use on a mischievous pup caught reveling in intoxication on the Iron Throne, before promptly calling for Lord Larys.

In due course, Queen Alicent and Ser Criston appeared, ostensibly by chance, though you with your keen senses could detect the unmistakable scent of their shared intimacy lingering upon them, a confirmation of their clandestine liaison.

You sat beside Helaena, who cradled Jaehaerys to her chest as if to shield him from the undercurrents of chaos swirling around them. In your arms, you held Jaehaera, both twins blissfully unaware, lost in the serenity of slumber.

“Who dared to do this? I demand to know! Who is responsible?” Aegon's voice erupted, slicing through the stillness with an edge of fury. News of the attempted assassination against his son had ignited the embers of his inebriated stupor into a roaring blaze of rage. You cast him a disapproving glare, a silent rebuke for his outburst, mindful of the slumbering children.

“The man uttered, ‘a son for a son, he said,’ I suspect he was referring to Prince Daemon, Your Grace,” you interjected softly, your voice a steady balm amidst the tumult.

Alicent, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, approached Helaena, settling beside her. She reached out tenderly, her fingers brushing against the peaceful features of sleeping Jaehaerys, you could see how guilt was feasting upon her soul.

"These villains, these traitors," Aegon spat, his words laced with venom. The anguish of nearly losing his heir carved lines of distress into his face, revealing that beneath the hardened exterior, perhaps Aegon did possess a heart capable of love. "My son is my legacy. My son is heir to the iron throne!”

His gaze then turned, sharp and accusatory, to Ser Criston, whose presence loomed in the doorway. "And where were you, Ser Criston? The Lord Commander of my King's Guard slumbers while my blood is threatened?"

You noted how Alicent’s expression tightened with concern as she cast a furtive glance toward Criston, who stared resolutely at the stone floor, his shame palpable. "I was abed, Your Grace, having dispatched orders to the Night's Watch," he replied.

"Abed?" Aegon echoed, incredulity lacing his words. "While your post was to safeguard the sanctity of my family?"

The Hand let out a weary sigh from his position at the periphery of the room. "Calm yourself, Aegon. The prince still lives," he interjected, attempting to quell the rising tide of tension.

"Yes," Aegon yelled, his attention shifting to you, "only because of Lady Mikaelson. A woman! All of you should hang your heads in shame."

You inhaled sharply at Aegon's jab, which he unknowingly let out. Lord Larys, his gaze insidious and lingering, leaned forward with a slithering curiosity. "What I truly wish to understand is how you managed to subdue two fully grown men, my lady."

The weight of every gaze in the room now turned to you, even Aegon momentarily relinquished his tirade to await your reply. You spoke with steady conviction, "I grew up among five brothers, My Lord. The dance of a blade is not foreign to me." Your voice joined the whispers of the past, your eyes glancing at the first man you had killed. "The first was a brute, slow in his approach. The second, however, was a madman, blinded by insanity."

"It matters not how she accomplished it," Aegon interjected, his impatience barely concealed, "The only thing that matters is she saved Jaehaerys' life."

A wave of relief washed over you as the next figure entered Helaena's solar, a dim light spilling in from the hallway. Aemond's gaze instantly locked onto the grim scene before him, his single eye widening as it fell upon the two lifeless bodies, bloodied and sprawled across the elegant stone floor. “What has happened here?” he demanded.

Aegon's temper flared like wildfire at the sight, stepping forward to confront Aemond, but the latter remained unruffled, his expression a picture of cool composure amidst the turmoil. “And where were you, while my son lay nearly murdered in his own bed?”

“On patrol, brother,” Aemond replied, his tone smooth and casual, though the lie dripped with an unsettling ease. His eyes then landed on you, his brow furrowing as concern flickered across his striking features. Ignoring Aegon entirely, he approached you, noting the streaks of crimson marring your skin. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice softening.

As his hand reached towards your face, you instinctively recoiled, acutely aware of the watchful eyes surrounding you both. “It is not my blood, Your Highness,” you assured him.

Aegon's voice roared again, filling the solar like a tempest. “What course shall we take now? How do we retaliate?” His frustration echoed off the walls.

You could hear Otto Hightower’s resigned sigh. “This is not a moment for rash vengeance, Aegon. Perhaps there is some good may yet come of this.”

“I will not be seen as weak,” Aegon ground out, determination hardening his features.

“You’re already seen as weak, Aegon,” Otto replied with cold clarity, counting off each grim incident, “A hasty coronation, a dragon escaping the pit. The people see an omen. They whisper in the streets. They say, perhaps Rhaenyra should be queen.”

"Let us thus feign that the deed is done, that her assassination was successful." He paused, his keen gaze settling upon the slumbering form of little Jaehaerys. “You would name her: monster. Slayer of infants. I would do more than that—a funeral procession. We shall construct a small casket for Jaehaerys and let the realm gaze upon the handiwork of this pretender who seeks the crown.”

“Your grand design has a singular flaw, Grandsire,” Aegon spat, stepping protectively in front of Helaena and the sleeping child, his posture defiant. “Jaehaerys lives. His existence cannot be kept hidden within these stone walls; word of his survival will soon seep through the cracks.”

“Not if we send him away—this very night,” Otto replied, his voice resolute, a calculated glint igniting his gaze.

“No,” Helaena murmured, instinctively tightening her embrace around Jaehaerys, as if her warmth alone could shield him from danger.

“No!” Aegon echoed, his tone thunderous compared to Helaena’s whisper. “It is far too dangerous for him beyond these castle walls.”

“And yet,” Lord Hightower replied, his tone sharp as a dagger, “he came dangerously close to death even within them.”

“Then where shall he go?” Alicent broke her silence, her voice carrying the weight of desperation.

The Lord Hand fell silent, his brow furrowed in contemplation, before his keen gaze shifted toward you. “Lady Mikaelson,” he began, a shrewd glint of ambition glimmering in his eyes, “your family resides in the Reach, do they not?”

"Indeed, Lord Hand," you replied smoothly, a lie slipping from your lips with practiced ease. You anticipated his intentions even before he continued. "We lie just beyond Golden Grove."

“Ah, that lies near Highgarden,” Otto mused, his mind racing with possibilities before breaking the stillness of the room, “The Tyrells have pledged neutrality, rendering it one of the scant havens in all of Westeros. Thus, it is decided: Jaehaerys shall journey there with Lady Mikaelson tonight. She has protected Jaehaerys once and now she will do so again.”

Aegon, his fingers brushing through Jaehaerys's soft curls as he rested, sighed in reluctant agreement. "Very well, but I demand that half of the White Cloaks accompany them."

Otto scoffed derisively, shaking his head. "No, such a show of force would raise too many suspicions. We can spare only two, perhaps four at the most."

"It would be swifter and safer by dragonback," Aemond interjected, his voice threading through the tension in the room. You turned to meet his gaze, which seemed to be focused only on you, "I can take Lady Mikaelson and Jaehaerys upon Vhagar."

Otto Hightower’s brow furrowed in disapproval. "That would be far too conspicuous."

“Then I shall accompany them,” Aemond asserted, his determination hardening like steel.

"No," Aegon countered firmly, his tone brooking no dissent. "We need you here."

Before Aemond could mount another argument, you rose from your seat, gently moving the sleeping Jaehaera into Alicent's waiting arms. Your voice rang out, steady and resolute amidst the rising tempests of conflict. “It is alright," you spoke clearly, “I will go.”

If Aemond ever met the Mikaelsons...

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@barnes70stark @izabell26 @anyisaravia2001 @urdeftonesgrrrl @helo1281917 @strangefunthornqueen @ellie-xOxo @hueanhdang @elenapri0502 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @caged-birdies-blog @darktrashsoulbear @lenavonswartzschild @writtenbyhollywood @gl4ssw1ngp1xy @goddesslilithmoriarty @sunset18rose @filmflux @esposadomd @sara-grimes-yess @littybeech @gyneve @https-kokomi @void21 @yariany02 @baby-w3-ar3-infinite @baby-i-can-see-your-reylo @niktwazny303 @ln8118 @missyviolet123 @caribbeangal @ggukiespace @levimaids

[twistedappletree]

the way i’m writing LSZ rooftop running, jumping from elevated places and landing like a cat into random conversations he wasn’t even invited to is so fucking funny to me, he’s a Lan through and through

[queenariesofnarnia]

sleepover secrets

gif not mine!

wc: 654

alastor x f!reader

🦌❤️

“You’re crazy as hell toots” Angel howls with laughter before tossing popcorn in his mouth. 

“Shut up! I can’t be the only person who finds the full on demon form totally fuckable” you try and defend yourself. 

“The only one who would say it out loud for sure” he informs you leaning against you as Fat Nuggets settles between you both. 

“I would never have the guts to tell him. I may be crazy but I enjoy not being double dead Ang.” giving Fat Nuggets  attention as you turn back your the movie he chose. A few moments of silence pass before Angel speaks again,

“Definitely a size kink thing right?” you couldn’t help but snort. 

“Definitely” you agree, unbeknownst to you a little eavesdropping shadow heard your spilled secrets. Going back to tell his master the news. The radio demon’s grin growing in curiosity. As the night grew on and more secrets were spilled the little shadow remained unseen gathering more to share with his master until you and Angel turned in for the night. The bottle you’ve been sharing forgotten on the nightstand. 

✨the next day✨

As morning hit Angel and you roll out of bed in pajamas trudging down stairs for breakfast. Greeting everyone, you sit next to Alastor who has your morning coffee in his hand. You thank him loud enough for him to hear before settling into your seat enjoying your coffee. Charlie suggested a group bonding activity, even pleading with Alastor to join. Everyone paired off into twos and just your luck of course you have him as your partner. 

“Okay everyone, ask your partner a question that you think would help to get to know them deeper!” Charlie optimistically instructed. 

“Ladies first dear” his always present grin seemed to sparkle with mischief today. 

“What drew you to radio hosting?” your question seemed to surprise him. 

“Well my dear, I believe this voice deserves to be broadcasted everywhere.” he answers, before pretending to think about what to ask you. “What do you think about my full form dear?” you shift in your seat at the question. There’s no way he could’ve heard you. Thinking of how to avoid the question. 

“I think it suits you. It definitely shows you’re not one to be fucked with” you answer looking away from him. His clawed fingers grab your face making you face him. You see Angel behind him with a shit eating grin looking at you. 

“It is quite rude not to look at someone while speaking to them my dear” his tone left you too stunned to speak. Dropping his hand from your face, you shoot up from your seat dismissing yourself from the group apologizing. Making it to your room in record time lying face down on your bed. 

“I’m never showing my face again” you mumble into your pillow.  

“Now that would be unfortunate dear” Alastor’s voice startled you as me appears in your bed. 

Startling you, before you could fall to the floor his shadow pushed you back up. 

“If I could have a heart attack still, I’d be dead” you huffed holding your chest. 

“You didn’t answer my question honestly dear” he said repeating his previous actions to get you to look at him. 

“You know the answer don’t you?” you ask doing your best to keep eye contact. “You do know it’s not right to eavesdrop on secrets shared at sleepovers Al” you give him the best serious look you can muster. 

“Whenever you want to see my full form again just ask cher” he said releasing your face before disappearing back into his shadow. Leaving you flustered. His laugh echos from the radio in your room, shaking your head with a small smile on your face. 

“You’re too much Al” you said softly but loud enough for him to pick up. 

“Don’t speak too soon dear” he replied before your radio turned off. 

[driverlando]

✧.* TWO BEST FRIENDS IN A ROOM

synopsis - you and charles are two bestfriends, but over the years you become more

a/n: my first request! A Charles leclerc x singer!reader smau. hope you enjoy, pls reblog and follow :)

charles_leclerc

liked by yourinstagram, charlesfan16 and 1,314,741 others

charles_leclerc happy birthday @yourusername sorry I can’t make it this year. drinks are on me the next time we meet ❤️

view all 2,084 comments

charlesfan16 friendship goals

↳ y/nfan69 I NEED them to be more

f1forever they’ve been there for eachother since the beginning of their careers 🥹

oscarpiastri why don’t I ever get a birthday post on instagram

↳ y/nfan29 you’re just not her

↳ landonorris neither do I :(

f1forever34 oh to have drinks with the charles leclerc

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift and 1,114,162 others

yourusername thank you once again coachella, you were amazing!

📸 by the adorable @charles_leclerc (p.s thanks for the drinks 🥂)

view all 3,567 comments

yourfan16 ADORABLE??!?!?

↳ leclercforever let’s not make this something into something it isn’t

↳ espresso78 I NEED THEM TO BE A COUPLE

charles_leclerc anytime 🥂

y/nbestsinger THEY HAD THEIR DRINK!! 🥹

landonorris I’m the adorable one, not him

↳ charles_leclerc someone’s jealous

arianagrande pretty girl ✨

—

IS LOVE IN THE AIR? CHARLES LECLERC AND CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND Y/N SPARK ROMANCE RUMOURS

In a twist that has sent fans into a frenzy, Formula 1 star Charles Leclerc and singer Y/N, who have been best friends since childhood, were spotted holding hands during a leisurely stroll in Monaco yesterday. The sighting has ignited rumors that the pair’s relationship has blossomed into something more than just friendship.

The duo was seen walking along the picturesque Port Hercule, laughing and appearing very much at ease in each other’s company. Both were dressed casually, with Charles sporting a simple white T-shirt and blue jeans, while Y/N looked effortlessly chic in a miu miu white skirt and blue top. But it wasn’t their fashion choices that caught the public’s eye—it was the undeniable chemistry and the intimate gesture of holding hands.

While the public speculation has been rampant, sources close to Charles and Y/N have confirmed to Daily Mail that the two are indeed in a romantic relationship. “Charles and Y/N have always been very close, but over the past few months, their bond has deepened,” a source revealed. “They’ve realized that their connection is more than just platonic, and they’re exploring this new chapter together.”

Another insider added, “They’ve been inseparable lately. It’s been a natural progression from friendship to romance. They’re very happy and are taking things one step at a time.”

A Friendship Turned Romance

Charles and Y/N’s story is the stuff of fairy tales. The pair grew up in Monaco, attending the same school and sharing numerous childhood memories. Despite their demanding careers—Charles in the high-octane world of Formula 1 racing and Y/N in the glitzy music industry—they have always made time for each other. Their close bond has often been a topic of admiration among their fans, who have long speculated about a potential romantic link.

What’s Next for the New Couple?

As Charles gears up for the upcoming Grand Prix and Y/N prepares for her next album release, the couple is reportedly keen to keep their relationship private and out of the public eye. However, given their high-profile careers, that may be easier said than done.

Despite the challenges that may come with dating in the spotlight, it’s clear that Charles and Y/N are ready to navigate their new relationship together. Whether it’s supporting each other at races and concerts or enjoying quiet moments in Monaco, this celebrity pairing is already proving to be one of the most talked-about romances of the year.

Stay tuned for more updates on Charles Leclerc and Y/N’s blossoming romance as we follow this beautiful love story unfold!

—

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,749,888 others

charles_leclerc Two bestfriend in a room…

view all 5,678 comments

landonorris they will kiss 😌

↳ f1fans67 😭😭😭

charlesfan56 CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING???

↳ y/nforever2 IM SO HAPPY

formulaonefan3 couple goals 🥹

[liked by charles_leclerc and yourinstagram]

yourusername my muse 🫶

[liked by charles_leclerc]

↳ y/nthebestsinger so happy for you bestie

↳ charlesfan1009 they’re so cute 😭😭

↳ oscarpiastri I thought that was me :(

yourbestfriend fave couple ❤️

taylorswift love you two!

[sandflakedraws]

✨The Touch of Sunlight Comic Book✨

This short romance is an enchanting tale of warmth, choice, and of breaking bonds.

🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑

Our story begins with Nulo, a night-bound fae who emerges from a well every full moon to grant wishes. They withstand the solitude by the short contact they have with their guests, and the trinket each leaves behind for a brief moment. But what should happen, when a guest wishes for something they don't even understand? What does it mean, when she says she wants to know… how are they?

🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑

Newcomers to this tale, you're in luck! If you want to see what emotions are in store for you, you can read it in full, in its premiere Webtoon form right here.

-----------------------------

At last, we are live!!! This project marks my entry into offering standalone, physical merch. If you've ever wanted to have some of my art in your hands, here's your chance~ Alongside the book itself, there will prints and stickers. And if we meet the stretch goals, even more!

There is also a special tier where you can receive a little traditional doodle I'd make with copic markers, but be aware that those are first come, first serve.

That said, I've added a lot more to the kickstarter version to make it sing like:

50+ additional panels 📝

small emotional sequences 💖

A nine page epilogue for those who wanted a little more touch in the touch of sunlight 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

If all goes well, I'm hoping that this kickstarter will help me get my footing to start making comics full time, something that I've always, always wanted to do.

If you have read this far, Thank You. It means a lot for this even to be seen, and I'm truly grateful for any and all support. That's a form of sunlight all on it's own to me.

-----------------------------

The campaign will run from April 28th to May 28th!

[mintsuwu]

Took a lil break from the asks in order to cook some ✨SMILING CRITTERS FAMILY TIME✨ with @rexmk0153universe-blog because why the hell not??? I might have to divide it in two parts though-

(1/2)

DogDay

DogDay's journey begins when a stork delivers him to the wrong family of wolves, leading him to be adopted by Big Bad's parents. However, his presence triggers jealousy in Big Bad, his adopted older brother, who resents the attention their parents give to the newcomer.

Despite the pack's focus on abilities related to weather phenomena, Dogday stands out due to his unique qualities and talents. As he grows older, he feels a deep longing for a sense of purpose and identity beyond his wolf upbringing. Seeking to find his true self, he leaves the pack and ventures to Jolly Valley, where he encounters the Smiling Critters and forms close bonds with them. Over time, Dogday becomes a leader among the Smiling Critters, embodying their values of friendship and unity.

Big Bad, driven by pride and a mix of emotions, followed Dogday to Jolly Valley, intending to both antagonize his little brother and secretly monitor his progress. Despite his outward bravado and mischievous nature causing ocassional trouble, Dogday remains welcoming towards his older brother, except when his antics go too far. Hus unwavering cheerfulness and open-heartedness serve as a beacon of hope for both the Smiling Critters and his troubled older brother.

BONUS: "Big Bad" is actually a nickname! His actual name is "WindWolf"... Dogday usually calls him "Big Bro", but the rest of the critters "misheard" it and began calling him "Big Bad", much to his dismay.

CatNap

Catnap shares a unique connection with a deity known as SandMan, who reigns over the Dream Realm, a distinct reality separate from the main universe. The origin of Catnap traces back to a moment when Dogday, as a young member of his pack, made a wish upon a shooting star for a friend, and this wish brought Catnap into existence.

SandMan took particular interest in Catnap due to his remarkable qualities, leading to a special father-son dynamic between them, despite Catnap starting off as just another creation of SandMan like many others.

Catnap, however, felt a strong pull to leave the Dream Realm in search of Dogday, the source of his creation. Eventually, the feline succeeded in finding Dogday and chose to remain by his side, along with the other Smiling Critters. Despite Catnap's origin in the Dream Realm and his connection to SandMan, his loyalty lies with Dogday and their companions, forging a lasting bond beyond the confines of the Dream Realm.

Kickin'Chicken

Kickin'Chicken comes from a predominantly female family, consisting of his mother, sisters, and himself as the middle sibling. His father, known as "Rockin'Rooster," is a famous singer, an example that Kickin' aspires to follow. However, Rockin'Rooster's focus on his career leaves little time for family, causing conflicting emotions for Kickin'. Despite his admiration for his father's success, Kickin' yearns for more attention and connection within the family... Yet he hides it under his "cool and tough guy" persona.

However, among his family members Kickin' has a strong bond with his older sister, Pecky. She is level-headed compared to Kickin', but shares his adventurous spirit and openness to new experiences and people.

BONUS: Kickin's family is quite fond of Bubba Bubbaphant, given how he was Kickin's first friend and all of them consider him another member of the family.

CraftyCorn

Craftycorn, born in a magical kingdom governed by four elemental monarchs (Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts and Spades) was raised as the daughter of the Queen of Spades, destined to become a warrior. However, Crafty harbored a distaste for violence, finding joy in art and nature instead.

Despite her mother's attempts to grant her freedom to choose her path within the elemental realms, the other rulers disapproved, doubting Crafty's suitability for the throne. When Craftycorn was to receive her royal Merry Charm, symbolizing her assigned role, she unexpectedly manifested her own charm—the flower. Fearing disappointment from her mother and influenced by the other monarchs, Craftycorn fled her home, unaware of the devastation her departure caused her mother.

Their relationship is complicated, marked by love and care, yet tinged with Crafty's mixed feelings towards her mother.

LoolaLamb

Loola is a special sheep born into a flock known as the "Sleep Sheep" or "Slumbering Guardians." These sheep have the unique role of wandering through villages, signaling to people that it's time to sleep and seek safety from the dangers of the night. Once their task is complete, SandMan, a mystical entity who the sheep "worship" due to its previous helps toward the flock, can traverse their realm to ensure everyone enjoys peaceful dreams and restful sleep.

She's the daughter of the flock's leader, tasked with protecting the sheep, particularly during the day when they're less vigilant due to needing rest after their nightly duties. However, Loola lost her mother at a young age and was raised by her father, who prepared her to take on a similar role in the future.

Despite her upbringing, Loola yearns for adventure and exploration beyond the confines of her flock's duties. After much persuasion, her father allows her to leave, although they maintain communication through letters.

The lamb often travels alone, but occasionally spends time with the Smiling Critters in Jolly Valley for extended periods of time.

[thedeadthree]

IOVANNA DAYNE (hotd) | VISENAERA TARGARYEN (hotd)

UNA ULLER (hotd) | LIOSLAITH MAC RUAIDHRI (dnd)

VINDAMEA VERENIM (tesv) | VIKTORIYA VAYS (cp2077)

ADDA DE TRASTAMARA (p:km) | EIRINI DIMITRIOU (twc)

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